Dangerous
by kitsune13
Summary: in honor of the North America release of Dissidia 012.  SPOILER ALERT!  There are plenty of reasons they shouldn't.  In the end, it doesn't matter.  Hearts will lead where hearts will and neither of them want it any other way.  Cloud/Tifa


_well, I was going to save this for March 22 in honor of the release of 012 but ffnet is being weird again so I figured I'd better get it in while I can. SPOILERS be here - mild if you haven't played the game and possibly a bit worse if you have or have already spoiled yourself. Anyway, hope you enjoy and I've actually got both another chapter for For Their Own Good and Avatar finished - I just can't get them posted with ffnet being lovely like this. And - with everything going on in the world, I hope that all my readers and their loved ones are safe and sound and that we all take the time to help in whatever way we can those that need us. _

**Dangerous**

by TamLin

He was panting and limping, just a little. The last fight with that purple armored warrior had been brutal. He was pretty sure he'd cracked some ribs when he'd impacted with that pillar. The thought of his payback for that had one edge of his lips hooking upward though. His opponent had wanted a fight with no holds barred... he'd certainly given it to him. He didn't mind giving it his all against most of his opponents and the enemy warrior had earned his responses . There were just... certain opponents he always held back with. Too young looking or vulnerable or not as developed in their skill yet. Innocents that shouldn't be on this misguided, pointless battlefield. Against them, he used just enough of his strength to beat them but not to break them.

Cloud wasn't in the habit of breaking enemies.

That job belonged to some of his own allies.

There was a cold wind blowing off the midnight ocean as he rounded the last of the dark rocks and his boots sank into grainy sand. It felt good against his heated skin and he shut his eyes and inhaled, letting the biting cold down into his lungs. Welcoming the way it numbed the more human sides of him, the way it settled into his wounds and the aches of his body and dulled them. He needed that cold, that numbing - because... he felt so lost...

"You look terrible."

He inhaled and his eyes snapped open as his head turned. His body went defensive - but it was for an entirely different reason than it should have been. He should have gone defensive because that voice belonged to the enemy. Instead, he went defensive because - that voice always made him feel vulnerable.

The cold moon sheened her dark hair and he watched the tail of it sway as she approached. She had a way of moving, walking, that was so precise. As if she were seconds away from dancing. Or kicking his ass. One foot in front of the other, exact and precise and while he was distracted by how pale and soft the moonlight made her legs look under the dark skirt and how her boots were the same color as dried blood - she was in front of him.

"Who did you fight this time?" she asked softly and he lifted his eyes up her entire form to meet the shifting red of hers. That wine color was worried and hesitant - hesitant about him - but she didn't step away from him.

He couldn't bring himself to step away from her.

"The purple guy," he knew the name, he just chose not to use it. His voice came out as gruff as his attitude. 'Back off' it warned the woman in front of him. 'I'm dangerous'. 'I'm your enemy'.

Except she reached up slowly and her cool fingertips brushed the spot near his mouth where his opponent's fist had caught him. That touch, cool against his hot skin, soothed - and yet it didn't soothe at all. The lurching, churning, wrenching that swirled through his gut at her touch wasn't soothing at all. It made his stomach feel clammy.

It made him feel guilty.

He had nothing to feel guilty for.

"Kain," she supplied the name even though he'd already known it. Ignorant of his body's reaction, her fingers continued to explore the rest of his face and when those fingers caught his chin and tipped it down for her, he was surprised to find he automatically let her. Why? Why was he so malleable when it came to her? Why was he standing there so compliantly while she inspected him?

"Stop - "

He jerked away from her - took two steps back, sand grinding under his boots, sand whispering, shaking his head.

"Cloud..."

He'd heard his name spoken every way he could think of but this was the first time _she'd_ said it and again, like her touch only stronger, the internal maelstrom reacted and rose, howling, inside him.

"Stop." It was an order this time and he leveled a glare at her.

It failed to have the usual effect. She didn't quail or glare back. Instead her worried eyes followed him and the softness in them took the strength out of his knees. He sat down abruptly in the sand, sword having long since disappeared to wherever it went when he didn't need it.

It probably meant something he didn't want to think about - that his sword disappeared when she was around.

He bent his knee and pulled it closer to his body, arm resting across it as he hunched forward. Suddenly the cold just made him feel sick to his stomach and chilled his bones. His loose fingers clenched briefly.

"Haven't you go somewhere else to be?" he growled at the dark haired girl, doing his best to radiate his desire to be alone. Unlike the rest of the world, again, it didn't work on her. Instead she slowly inched closer and he fought the insane way it made his lips want to twitch. As if he wouldn't notice her moving...

"No," she answered and even though her voice was still soft, it was steady and sure. Blood red boots displaced sand and he raised his face to look at her. And then down at her shifting feet. And then back up at her face. Something flashed over her moon drenched features, something impossibly familiar that tugged at his hollow chest as if it were a dream he'd dreamed every night and forgotten every morning. Something amused and embarrassed and pleased and self-conscious and stubborn. Her boots didn't stop their slow slide his direction. Everything inside him seemed to hang, helpless and unbalanced, right on the edge of some bottomless chasm... and then she was next to him and slipping gracefully down to sit there. His lungs released their held oxygen and his heart hurt. Shy but determined, she drew her knees up toward her and laced her hands over them.

They sat in silence together and the wind was cold over the black and silver water, whispering waves up onto the grainy shore. It felt - it sank comfort deep down through him, like a slow, warm melt and he realized it was the first time he'd felt... he'd felt at peace in as long as he could remember. Not that his memory stretched too far back.

"Tifa - " he said her name and then had to pause at the way it felt on his tongue. He'd never said it before and it filled his mouth, slipped through his throat, lodged in his heart, sank down heavy and warm into his stomach. He realized, belated, that the hand he'd used to brace himself upright was now resting near her far hip and he didn't remember if it had been there when she'd sat down or if one of them had somehow moved without the other realizing it. He didn't want to move it now that he'd noticed it though. She turned her face from where she'd been watching the moon in front of her and their noses almost brushed. When had he leaned forward? When had she lifted her face like that?

"Cloud?" her voice was very soft and maybe it was his imagination that gave it a slight waver. This close she smelled good, something soft and sweet, with just the hint of a clean, sharp undernote. Something to catch his attention so he'd inhale more. Her eyes were closed, lashes dark against pale skin and he hadn't noticed when she'd shut them because he'd been too busy watching the way her lips were the smallest bit parted as she drew shaky breathes in through them.

"You shouldn't be here," he managed and it sounded thick and blurred to his ears. She shook her head and it set her dark hair tickling and swaying against his bare arm and shoulder. Her eyes opened and they were forever deep. He could find himself in them.

"I was already here," she murmured and he watched her eyes move over his face, thought he felt the slightest weight from the back of her head against his shoulder. And he exhaled silently at what she was telling him, his jaw tightening. He knew. They didn't have to consciously decide to find each other. It - just seemed to happen. All the time. As if they were two stars locked in orbit around each other, never far, always returning. It was too poetic a picture for someone like him but for some reason... she made him think of stars.

"It's not safe. We can't keep - " doing this? It wasn't as if he were choosing to. It just - happened. The same way he just 'happened' to always be there when she needed him in a fight. He couldn't seem to help himself, couldn't seem to stop it, didn't even have to be aware of it - it just was. He couldn't leave her alone. And - and he thought - _hoped?_ - maybe she felt the same way about him?

"I know," she murmured it and this time her head really was resting on his shoulder as if it were the most natural place for it in the world. It _felt _as if it was, as if it had always belonged there. Always been there. He turned his own head to rest his chin against her hair and forced his hand to stay planted in the sand next to her instead of wrapping that arm around her the way he wanted to.

"I can't help it," she continued. "I just need to be where you are."

"We're enemies," he stated the obvious and found that his body had ignored him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to hold her closer anyway. She hummed a soft sound and her body softened, fitting into that space against his side where it seemed to match perfectly.

"No," she whispered it and he felt her breath against the skin of his throat, warming it, tickling it, teasing. "We're not. We're just on different sides."

"Tifa..." it was almost silently chiding and he dipped his head into the shelter they'd formed between them where the world was just the two of them and nothing more was needed or necessary. The subtle distinction between 'enemy' and 'opponent' wasn't going to be enough to keep his allies from hurting her if she showed up at the wrong time in the wrong place. And - he'd never forgive himself if she got hurt but he knew he'd be damned forever if she was hurt because of him.

"I know," she answered and it occurred to him that no one else would understand their conversation from the outside considering how disjointed and unnecessary they seemed to find words. He knew what she was thinking and she knew what he was thinking just as clearly, maybe more so. It didn't make sense - but there it was. His other hand came around to cup her cheek and somehow, both of her legs had ended up across his closest leg, tangling them even more completely together. Her forehead rested against his, mingling their hair and he felt the brush of her nose against the tip of his. And then she literally stole the breath right out of his lungs.

"But you're more important to me than Chaos or Cosmos or who wins or loses."

"Tifa - " he protested it, shocked. The fate of this entire world, and maybe worlds beyond it, depended on the win or loss of one side. Both of them had been brought from their own forgotten worlds to stand in trust for their chosen side, to fight to the end for it. The end of this war would decide - everything.

She refused to be swayed.

"You are. To me, you are," she affirmed and even if her voice was still soft, he could hear steel under it. "I'll fight for Cosmos because the world needs peace. So that you can have peace when you go back to your own world when this is all over. Because that's the most important thing there is. To me. My heart tells me so. When I fight Chaos... it will be for you."

He wanted to deny her. What she was saying was insane. Illogical.

Dangerous.

His arms around her tightened and when had she ended up sideways in his lap like this? But she was and it let him hold her, his own body able to wrap almost completely around her smaller, more fragile one. Oh, he'd seen her fight and he knew she could dent even Gabranth's armor with her fists... but he'd also seen her hurt and he knew. Gods, he knew how breakable she was...

How utterly vicious Chaos was...

Why this one single, dark haired woman meant so much more to him than anyone and everyone else he'd met here - he didn't know. It didn't make sense. It didn't matter. There was no fighting what he felt for her. He didn't want to anyway. Out of this whole confusing 'fight for this side/fight for that one' 'you don't belong here but fight for us anyway' mess this entire 'war' was, the one thing that should have made the least amount of sense to him - made the most. Deep down, he felt as if she were the_ only_ thing that really made sense.

"I won't let you get hurt," he swore it, voice quiet and raw, his own impossible, illogical, dangerous determination beginning to solidify. "No matter what - I _won't_ let you get hurt."

He buried his face in her throat and, finally, her slim arms came up around him as she whispered his name. Unsuspecting. But he knew what he had to do - he'd keep his promise.

No matter what it cost him...


End file.
